Dean's Hatred
by givemebrandy
Summary: TW: self harm short story on why Dean used to wear so many bracelets can't believe i actually got a couple people reading/following! I have no idea where I'm going with this so it'll probably be a while between updates, it was just a little headcanon drabble thing so we'll have to wait and see what happens!
1. Chapter 1

Dean stood up and ran his hand across his hair. Cas wasn't going to answer, of course not. It had been weeks. Rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes, he fell back onto his bed and tried to sleep. Sam was at the library still; it was a university library and so it was open late.

A quarter of an hour later, Dean had given up on sleep. Given up on Cas. Given up on most things to be honest. He sat on the edge of the bed and leant his head into his hands. He'd finished the bottle of whiskey earlier, and he had no more alcohol left, and just couldn't be bothered to walk down to the bar or the store to get any. But he needed something.

He glanced around the room to see if there was anything to be had, but all there was there was a crucifix, holy water, a bag of salt and a silver knife.

Knife. Perfect.

It had been years, and he had sworn to himself that never again would he stoop to this level of self-hatred, but he just couldn't deal with everything right now. He took the knife in his left hand and rolled up his sleeves. He pressed the knife to the skin of his forearm, noticing how faint the old scars were. Taking a deep breath, Dean pressed the point down and dragged the blade across the side of his wrist. It wasn't deep enough. Again. He kept cutting until there were 8 cuts, about two inches long, not too deep, not too wide, horizontally across the side of his arm and wrist. Damn he'd not really thought about the blood. He cursed under his breath and sought out a few tissues, cleaned the knife, and pressed them against the wounds, waiting for the blood to lessen.

Damn, he'd have to search out his old bracelets too now. He should have thought this through. Stupid. As usual, thinking about the wrong things, missing details, failing to protect Sammy, losing Cas. As soon as the bleeding had almost stopped, he located his old bands and bracelets at the bottom of his rucksack and slipped them over his hand, wincing at the contact of wood and string on open cuts. Sorted. He pulled the sleeve back down and placed the knife back on the table just as Sam opened the door.


	2. Chapter 2

'Hey man, you all right?' Sam asked Dean as he walked in to the motel room.

'Yeah, just a little tired' Dean answered, lying down again, on his stomach this time. As he rearranged the pillow so he could breathe, Sam noticed the bracelets on Dean's wrists again. He hadn't seen them in years, and had hoped he never would again. It wasn't something they'd ever talked about, but Sam thought Dean probably knew that he knew. Living together on the road it was hard to keep some things hidden.

_Not impossible though_, thought Sam, as he placed his laptop on the small table, and shoved the bag of beer and groceries onto the floor. He wasn't tired yet. He wasn't often tired. Not tired enough to sleep, anyway. Making sure Dean was asleep-he was, he really must have been exhausted-Sam quickly changed into slacks and trainers and headed out for a run. Running was good. Running cleared his head, helped him sleep. Usually.

'I smell blood,' Dean almost jumped out of his skin. Cas had materialised right next to him, and was staring intently at his face, 'Are you hurt?'

'Jesus Christ, Cas! Do you always have to do that? And where the hell have you been, anyway?'

'Around. You haven't answered my question: Are you hurt?'

'No, no I'm fine,' Dean resisted the urge to pull his sleeve all the way down. The bracelets covered up the cuts just fine, it was just paranoia, 'Just scraped my knee earlier on a wall, nothing serious' He was used to lying about injuries. People tended to worry if you told them you got this bruise from a vengeful spirit, and that cut from a fight with a vampire.

'Oh,' Cas sat on the edge of the bed. He looked tired, and worn.

'Seriously man, it's been weeks and I-we- haven't heard a damn thing, how would we know if you were okay, what the hell have you been doing?' Dean was angry at Cas now. Angry that he hadn't been there, that he had never answered.

'It's okay, Dean,' Castiel tried to show a sign of comfort, but Dean wouldn't take it, 'I've had other things on my mind. Angel politics, nothing you need to worry about. Yet.'

'Right, sure, well I'm gonna get some sleep,' Dean lay back down on the bed, as Castiel stood up.

'I'll watch over you.'


	3. Chapter 3

Dean slept almost instantly, odd for him, especially as he usually took longer getting to sleep when Cas was there watching over him. Castiel noticed that his sleep was somewhat restless, and smoothed a hand over his brow to calm him. He sat down on the other bed, watching Dean breathe. Dean suddenly turned over, tangling himself amongst the sheets, arm above his head. The bracelets slipped slightly from their carefully placed positions on his wrist. That little slip was all it took.

Cas saw the fresh cuts, saw hints of scars. But Dean had told him he wasn't hurt, that he was okay. Why had he lied? And why were the cuts so parallel, so perfectly similar? He had never seen this on a human before. He didn't think Dean would partake in any such rituals, and testing for silver he always used his forearm, never wrist. He would ask him about it when he woke up.

Several hours later, Sam stumbled in, shattered. Cas stood up abruptly, and Sam just stared at him in shock, trying to control his breathing. He didn't realise how long he had been running for, and it was almost starting to grow light.

'Cas? What..?'

'I'll be in the corner. You won't even notice I'm here' Cas answered, not even realising it was strange for someone to stumble in during the early hours of the morning, having run for hours in the middle of the night. Sam, too exhausted to even question properly why Castiel was there, changed quickly, Cas politely averting his eyes, and fell into bed, sleeping instantly.

The next morning, Sam left for the library again, leaving Dean to clean the impala, which had been driven through an expanse of mud and bog a few days before, with Cas attempting to help.

'Dean?' asked Cas.

Dean looked up from scraping dried mud off the wheels, 'Yeah?'

'Last night…you said you weren;t hurt. Why did you lie?'

Something flashed through Dean's eyes, but of course Cas didn't know what it was, he probably didn't even pick up on it, and he turned back to the wheel.

'I didn't,' he answered shortly, 'hand me that cloth, will you?'

Cas passed the cloth. 'You're doing it again. You had wounds on your wrist, why would you not let me heal them?'

Dean threw down the cloth, panic rushing through his head

'Look, Cas, I don't know what you think you saw, but I'm fine. Why are you even here? You're not doing anything useful, you won't tell me what you've been doing, what the hell is going on?'

'I had to speak to some higher ups in heaven and rearrange my assignment. Dean, please let me heal you,' Cas took Dean's hand and started to roll the sleeve up to see the extent of the damage. Dean pulled away and turned back to the Impala. He didn't want Cas to see what he had done to himself over the years.

'Dean, I'm trying to help,' Cas was being uncharacteristically pushy; usually he left things alone when told to. It was almost as if he knew that Dean actually did want to talk about it or fix it or something. 'Please.'

Dean stopped fighting then, and just let Castiel take his hand and roll up his sleeve, closing his eyes and turning his face away, fighting every instinct to pull away or punch Cas in the face to get him away from his arms. He felt Cas' cool hand press against his arm and almost flinched, forcing himself to stay still while he felt the power surging through his skin.

'There' Cas rolled the sleeve back down gently, but Dean pulled it up again, turning his arm over, completely shocked at seeing his arm healed again. He hadn't seen it scar-free in years.

'Th..Thanks man,' Dean smiled at Cas.

'Where did they all come from?'

'I…accidents. Hunting is…dangerous' Dean wasn't sure how to explain that he hated himself so much sometimes that he felt he had to physically hurt himself to express the pure loathing and rage against himself. He didn't know how Cas didn't realise he did it to himself either, the scars were so parallel they couldn't be accidents.

As if Cas had read his mind, 'Dean, did you..did you do this to yourself?'

Not knowing how to react to the one thing he wanted to answer, he turned back to the Impala and continued scraping mud.

'Why? I don't understand' Cas had correctly taken Dean's silence as confirmation, 'Why would you want to hurt yourself?'

'It's a long story and a sucky life Cas, just promise me one thing,'

'Anything'

'Don't tell Sam, okay? He would flip'


	4. Chapter 4

'Of course, anything you say, Dean,' Cas wasn't even sure what he was agreeing to. He didn't quite understand the implications of what had just happened. He just hoped Dean would tell him in his own time. They turned back to the car, rubbing mud off, cleaning, polishing. Their hands kept colliding as they both worked in the same spots to make sure she was immaculate. Dean flinched away each time, still jumpy and nervous about his arm.

After about 15 minutes of silence, Dean threw down the rag, and turned to Castiel.

'Look, Cas, take a break okay? I want to talk to you,'

'Ok,' Cas laid down his rag carefully and shook down his sleeves as Dean got out a couple of beers from the trunk of the car and gave one to Cas, as they sat down on the kerb.

'Listen…okay…this isn't easy, and it's not something I've ever really talked about, so just listen, okay?'

'Okay,' Cas opened the beer and took a drink, and Dean took a swig of his trying to gain some courage to finally talk to someone.

'It started when I was a kid. Me and Sammy always travelled around with Dad, you know that. We would always be at new schools, I'd always have to take care of him and me, even when we were little. He was usually okay in schools, a little shy maybe, but I don't think he got bullied, because he could take care of himself. Fight them off. Me on the other hand, if I fought, I'd get in so much trouble because I 'should know better' and be 'responsible'. I never fit in well. I just wanted to be out hunting, but then I'd have Dad on my back, telling me I was doing it wrong, gonna get us all killed, I should be looking after Sammy.

'It was too much. I started…hating myself I guess. Always convinced I was doing something wrong, that I was a failure,' he stopped to down half of his drink, 'and I couldn't handle it. I noticed that if I got injured in a hunt, or a fight, it was easier. Because I deserved the pain, deserved to be punished. I could take care of a physical injury better than I could take care of Sam. So I started deliberately hurting myself. I was 16.'

Dean's hands shook as he set down his now empty bottle and rolled up his sleeve, slipping the bracelets off as he did so, forgetting that Cas had healed the scars.

'I…before you healed me, I had scars all up my arm. Most of them were faded because I made myself stop when Sam went off to college. In the years since then, I've only slipped up a few times, and always hid it with bracelets. I think Sam knows. But yesterday, I wasn't expecting you. I didn't realise you'd notice. Thank you for healing me.'

Dean took a smaller bottle out of his pocket and drank. He needed something stronger than beer right now. He had never told anyone this ever.

'I think I understand,' said Cas eventually, 'Sometimes I feel that if I hurt myself it would make others hurt less, but it doesn't work that way.'

'No, I know. Thanks for listening, man' Dean stood up, and offered his hand to help Castiel up. He took it, and the two stood for a second, looking at each other.

'I think this is a situation when humans hug?' said Cas, questioningly.

'I..Yeah I guess it is,' replied Dean, a little muddled, and pulled him into an embrace. For a second, Cas didn't respond, then he put his arms around the larger man's waist with his hands against his back and pulled him tighter. Dean started to pull back, but Cas held on for a second before releasing his friend, Dean resting his hand on Castiel's cheek for a moment before turning away.

'Right, so, back to my baby?'

'You have a child?' questioned Cas

'I meant the Impala' half laughed Dean, patting Castiel on the shoulder before grabbing his rag out of the bucket to continue cleaning.


End file.
